Him : Hey! I've lost 5 pounds!

Me : Really? Awesome! Since when?

Him : Since Monday.

Yeh. He's lost the same amount of weight in 5 days that it took me a month to lose.

I hate him. 

I just heard the Britney Spear's mother has written a book about how to be a good parent.

Really? 

 
With a knocked-up 16-year-old Jamie Lynn and the drunken coochie-flashing monstrosity that is Brit?

Maybe I should write a book about how to be a diehard camper...or how to never eat cheesecake, EVER.

If you wear your engagement ring and don't take it off...like...ever EVER?   Well, there's a possibility that moisture will get trapped under there and will cause a fungus to start growing under your skin on that finger.

And, like, people who you work in the pharmacy with might start saying you have jock itch on your finger and pointing and laughing because you have A NASTY FREAKING FUNGUS under your ring.

They may also throw around the words "athlete's foot" and "ringworm" just for added fun.

I'm just sayin.  I mean...that's what I've heard.

(I also heard a little cream will kick a fungus' ass within 2 days.)

(And that you should prolly take your ring off once in awhile.)

(Yeah.) 

Know what's NOT very enjoyable? 

Being 12 feet in the air on a ladder and looking down to see a wasp crawling up your leg toward the opening of your shorts.

Know what ELSE is not very enjoyable? 

Realizing later that you were screaming "PLEASE GET OFF PLEASE GET OFF PLEASE GET OFF!!!" loud enough for the homeowner to hear you.

I'm. Just. Sayin.

**UPDATE #2**

First of all, THANK YOU for all who are trying to help. I really appreciate it. And I owe you guys cookies...or lap dances...or something.

Ok. What I've found. I prodded around a little bit and found out the only pages that are messed up are my main page, individual post pages, about me page, and blogroll page (the pages that matter...go figure).Everything else is ok, including category archives, montly archives, and comment pending pages.So I've deducted...it CAN'T be a specific post because the archives with the post would have messed up too.  It CAN'T be the sidebars because the archives have the sidebars as they should be. It can't be the header because of the same reason. Now my task is to find out what those 4 pages have in common that the others don't. They should all have the same information (except the comment pending page, which has the old sidebars...but that shouldn't have anything to do with anything).I'll keep trying.  Thank you all again!! 

*UPDATE*

I still don't know what's going on with the blog. Have had a couple of suggestions, but either it wasn't the case or I don't know how to check to see if it is. I contacted my web designer and she's in Scotland working and said she'd look when she could.  Don't know when that'll be.So yeah.  Still screwed for now. 

How's about a picture of a cat describing how I feel about this?

-----------------------------

No clue what's going on with the site.  I actually didn't do it this time!  Accccccck! Anyone know why it would suddenly do this?

Jesus take the control panel! 

For some reason, my comments aren't working again.  Brilliant, seeing as how I JUST asked everyone to leave me a comment.  Yee. Haw. 

<insert lots of cussing here>

*update* Working now. I think. I dunno. Someone shoot me.

Um. Ahem.

There was a story on the news tonight about some clothing company somewhere (like how I only get half of the information needed to tell a real story?) that wants to start putting an obesity hotline phone number on the labels of their large-sized clothes.

Fine.  Whatevs.

BUT.  The newslady went on to say, "that means they would put it in women's clothing starting at size 12 and men's clothing with waistlines at 40"."

HUHWHATTHE?

Hi.  My comfy pants are size 12.  I have no problem with that...I know I have some pudge.  (heh. pudge)  But size 12 is NOT obese, thankyouverymuch.  I'm 5'7". According to all the charts, I could gain 15 more pounds and still be in a normal/healthy weight range.

So, dear clothing company who I don't know exactly who you are because I was busy eating my large Sonic Oreo Blast with a big fat mound of whipped cream on top and the sound of my slurping down those hundreds of calories made me miss the first part of the story...ahem...YOU MAY NOW BITE ME.

Hmph.

Tonight I was sitting in the drive-thru at KFC, taking a little too long trying to decide between extra crispy and original recipe.  In front of me was a new Nissan with big, shiny chrome, spinner wheels.  I rolled my eyes and said, "that's just stupid...I can't stand when kids do that." 

The driver turned up the stereo with bass loud enough to shake even my car.  I again rolled my eyes and said, "Oh, yeah, THAT sounds real good. Pfffft!"  Shellie nodded, annoyed.

I continued to rant about how LOUD the music was and how TOTALLY inappropriate it was to do that in a drive-thru, where NORMAL people were.  I rolled up my window, turned up my own radio, and mindlessly started singing along with the song on the radio.

And that's when I realized...

I was sitting at KFC, in my 2001 four-door Ford Taurus, griping about the youngsters these days and singing proudly to Phil Collins' "In The Air Tonight".

Someone shoot me now. Seriously.

Hi, internets!  I'm Chase!  You may remember me from such Public Service Announcements as Preparing for a Tornado and How To Handle A Crisis Situation.  Today at Taste The World, we'd like to offer help to our male readers.  That's right, you with the penis.  Put down the remote and pay attention.

Thanks, dude!

There are some things in the universe that are constant - fundamental truths, if you will - that, no matter what, you cannot argue.  Our brilliant researchers found it stated like this:

"What is absolutely true is always correct, everywhere, all the time, under any condition. An entity's ability to discern these things is irrelevant to that state of truth."

Good stuff! 

I'd like to share a set of specific Universal Truths with you men today.  And, guys, please note the capitalization of Universal Truths because, um, it's that freaking important.

UNIVERSAL TRUTH : A woman can joke to herself about gaining a little weight.  She may even do this in front of you.  If she does, you should smile in acknowlegement that you were paying attention, but be sure not to nod too dramatically.

UNIVERSAL TRUTH : A woman's close girlfriends can joke along with her about gaining a little weight.  Again, pay attention if you must, but, remember, don't speak up!

Great job! 

And here is the most important dynamic. Write this down if you must!

UNIVERSAL TRUTH : A man cannot joke about a woman gaining a little weight.  Ever.  And, guys?  Don't think that because you think you're being cute and funny that it will make a difference.  Because it doesn't!  And you're not cute and funny!

Even if she loves you!

To help you out a little more, here are examples of what you might think is cute, when in fact, it is NOT:

"I noticed you getting squishy in all the right places!"

Squishy.  SQUISHY?  Universal Truth dictates a foot to your crotch.

Ouch!

(while poking a finger at a woman's stomach) "Ha ha it's like Pillsbury! A-HOOO-HOOO!"

Right. The poking? Universal Truth dictates if you poke that finger at my that woman's stomach one more time, I'll she'll break it off. 

Not good for you!

So now you know what you have to do, guys...and what you have to not do.  (DON'T.DO.IT.)

So, don't let me down, boys.

Yeah. This concludes our PSA for today.  Stayed tuned for the next series coming soon!

Squishy. Hmph.

To the young lady I saw in Hicksville, Oklahoma this weekend:

Hi. Honey?

The minute the tattoo artist finished that big barbed wire/death rose tattoo on the back of your neck was the minute you gave up the eternal right to wear fuzzy, glittery flip flops. 

Please either grow your hair out or put on motorcycle boots.

Thanks, babe!
Chase

That, in Oklahoma, it is illegal for any woman to be artificially inseminated without written consent from her husband?

That means, if you don't have a husband (single/divorced/widowed)?  Too bad for you....you apparently don't deserve kids.  Unless you're knocked up by some random guy, that is.

Does this piss anyone else off?!

(p.s.  My best friend is 34 and single.  And today she got inseminated. In Oklahoma. By the only doctor in the state who will do it - a MALE doctor. Hmmmmm.)

Before my truck got squished, it had one little issue.  When I would first start it, it would idle really high, revving its engine until it sounded like it was going to take off on its own and plow through whatever was in its way.  It was overly excited, I guess...it just wanted to go and go and go.

Of course, when I would take it in to to the shop, it didn't make a peep.  It never once acted for the mechanics the way it did when I had it.  Much like when I take a sick pet to the vet, the truck was miraculously healed once it reached the shop.  The shop guys were always doing the 'yeaaaah, ok, maybe next time' thing.

And so it goes with my brain.

Wednesday began my brain's revving....it's own going and going and going and feeling like it was going to burst out of my skull through every orifice and flop around fish-like on the floor.

Today?  I feel decent.  Not 100%, but more like a human than I've felt in about a week.  I actually got up, got dressed, and went to work.  (!!!)

By myself. 

Without crying.

And when people ask me how I'm doing today, I can say "I'm doing ok" and mean it.

So by tomorrow when I meet with the counselor guy?  I'll probably be all perfect and full of glee and make him say, "umm...why are you here, again. lady?"   When I try to go into the "but I thought I had a brain tumor!" spiel, I'll probably get an, "umm, yeaaaaaah, maybe next time."

Which is ok, I suppose, I'd rather show up and tell him how I used to feel rather than not be able to make it out the door in the first place.

.....

But on to more important things.

Seriously.  Who actually puts the twisty-tie back on the bread?  I hate that little useless piece of trash.  If you spin the bread around and tuck the plastic underneath it, it seals it JUST fine, thankyouverymuch.

Revolt against the twisty-tie thingy.

It is a pain in my ass.

That is all.

Thank you.

Freaking seriously.

A few hours ago, I was sitting here, whining about having NOTHING to blog about, which is pretty much my nightly routine.  Shellie was telling me to oh-my-god-just-stop-whining, which is pretty much her nightly routine.

Just as I was about to give up and throw a full-on temper tantrum because waaaaaah, I have nothing to talk about, there was a ruckus. A loud, scary ruckus. Loud and scary enough that we both said, "OH MY GOD" and ran outside.

Cars everywhere. It smelled like burnt rubber and hot oil.  Someone had crashed their truck in front of my house.  It wasn't the prettiest thing ever. The driver obviously went into the windshield.  We could hear the woman screaming. Shellie ran to them, I ran to the phone and called 911.  When I came back out, I saw what they crashed into.

My truck. Head-on. 

The truck was parked on the side of the street...now it was about 25-30 feet down and crashed into our privacy fence.  Between where it was parked and the fence was Shellie's car.  It got knocked to the side and smooshed by the force of my truck. 

My truck!

Shellie's car!

Our beautiful fence!

More drama (including a fugitive! on the run!) and pictures below.

I posted not too long ago about the freaky deaky Juicy Fruit commercial that I hated.  I'd like to now add another to that list, please.

I can't find the actual commercial online, so if you do, let me know.  This one is for Scotch Brite bathroom floor cleaner pad thingies.  It's a fine product idea, a swiffer-looking thing that fits around the edge of the toilet perfectly.  Goody-goody gumdrops.

But, the voiceover?  Makes me want to stab someone in advertising.  (Not you, Mom101)  I don't remember the exact verbage, but it goes something like this:

"Because boys don't always hit the toilet, now you've got Scotch Brite bathroom floor cleaner...thingies."

And they show a woman VERY happily cleaning piss off the floor.   Amen, sistah!  That's what girls are for...cleaning up boy pee!

The commercial should have gone something like this:

"Because boys don't always hit the toilet, now you've got Head Gripper 2000!"

And then they show a woman with a device that she latches onto her son/husband's head, holding him down to the floor while still VERY happily standing above them as she shouts "CLEAN UP YOUR OWN PISS, YOU NASTY, NASTY PENIS-WIELDER!"

I mean, whatever.  I'm just saying.

My non-married, non-birthing status has finally morphed into "The Enemy".  It's sort of always been implied that something just ain't right with me not having a man, a shiny ring, a baby on my tit and stretchmarks proving I'm worthy, but since I've turned 30, those whispers apparently have turned into oh-then-maybe-she's-a-husband-stealer. 

The man I used to work for, a man who I love as my own father, has been forbidden to go anywhere with me alone again.  Apparently, his wife thinks there's something going on there because god forbid we hang out (like we always have).  Let me give you a little background.  I've known his family (wife included!) for about 15 years...I was best friends with his daughter...they paid for me to go on family vacations with them...they called me by their last name...I was in their weddings and at their baby showers and there for every single birthday...I am, essentially, another kid.   But now?  Now that I'm a woman and still not married?  I must be after something.  WTFFFFF??

There's always a stigma surrounding older, single, childless ladies.  What is this about?  Is it so bad to not want to get married and have kids that when you make that choice, there's something fundamentally wrong with you?  And before you say something about me having a girlfriend - yeah, well, that just happens to be.  It's the same whether I'm dating guys or girls. 

"You've NEVER been married?" 

"You don't have kids? What?! You don't WANT kids?" 

"WHY, GOD, WHY?!"

At my 10-year reunion, I was surrounded by all those people I went to school with, and every single one of them had at least one child.  Most had more.  And, ya know, whatever floats your boat.  But stop feeling sorry for me for not having a diamond or a backwards carseat.  If I have my way, I will never have those things, thankyouverymuch.  That is my choice.  Leave me alone about it. 

Even advertisers market to married couples - most of them with kids.  Next time you watch tv, pay attention to the commercials.  All those actors (unless it's for beer or something great like that) have on wedding rings.  And they make sure you see that - it's amazing what they know your subconscious picks up.  Hi, I'm single and I buy Windex, too.  I need shorts and matresses and Can't Believe It's Not Butter.  I spend money, advertisers - I spend lots of money.  Hi, over here! I'm right here!!  It's me, the crazy one without the husband!!

I often relate to the girls on (early) Sex and the City, spending money on baby showers and buying everyone wedding gifts and wondering when MY shower is going to be.  Where's my "I'm single and doing just fine" shower?  What about my "look, ma, no birthing hips" party? 

But, I suppose not having to do all that stuff is my party.  Maybe it's its own reward. 

I just wish I could register at Pottery Barn for it.  Or at least get me a little Target action.

God'a'mighty!

There have been some pretty bad commercials (BK king, anyone?) lately, but this Juicy Fruit atrocity just takes the cake. Does this creep the living bejeezus out of anyone else??  Everytime it plays, I feel like running far, far away whilst screaming at the top of my lungs.

Mom101, was this one of yours??  If so, you're SO getting smacked.

----------------

I also haven't had a chance to introduce my lovely new renter, Chatty B Tawkin  Go check her out!! NOW!

Shellie and I have this thing where we always try to pooch out our bellies as far as they'll go and then flaunt around spouting how friggin' hot we're looking.  I'm not gonna lie - it ain't pretty.

Yesterday, I was standing in front of the mirror as Shellie was doing her hair and I lifted up my shirt and grabbed my belly saying, "wooohooooo!!"  Yes, I'm quite proud.  She stopped what she was doing, turned to face me, and looked up saying, "was your stomach always that big? I don't remember it being so fat before."

I put down my shirt and pretended to pout.  I said, "Maybe I'm just bloated?"

Her response?  "Yeah, bloated with chips and salsa."

So today I got back on the hooch xanax Weight Watchers wagon.  For real this time, too - we even went to a meeting, where the leader was one notch too cheerful as she was talking about jogging around the block.   Jog?  Me?  HAH!  I have a lot to teach this one.

So, I get 22 points a day (in real language, this translates into 'not enough to feed a small pigeon') and we're supposed to get 1-2 points worth of exercise a day. I wonder how many activity points blogging is?  Because, ya know, I could do that all day.  What?? I type fast, so my fingers really MOVE!

*sigh*  I need a Snickers.

---------------------------

Don't forget to go visit my sexpot renter, T.  I've been a horrible landlord this week - not enough pimping out my tenants!  (I was gonna say ho...but I don't know her well enough yet...she might beat me up.)

While winter totally sucks, spring su-uuh-huuuuh-fucking-ucks.

Sure, it's pretty and bloomy and 'time to open the pool'y...but it's not like I can see anything to enjoy it. Either my eyes are welded shut with allergy goop or I'm zombied out on allergy meds.  And I certainly can't stop sneezing long enough to hear any bird singing or deer mating...or whatever other wondrous stupid things happen this time of year. The only thing I hear?  Lawnmowers from satan, kicking up all the crap that makes me miserable.

Grass, trees, flowers, dogs, cats, dirt, you name it...in the spring, I have an allergy for it.

I've been meaning to get my allergy shot, but like everything else, keep putting it off or forgetting until 5:01 that I need to make the appointment.  So the last few days, beyond being PMS-moody, I've been popping zombie pills, scratching my ever-itchy forehead, sneezing about every 10 seconds (NOT an exaggeration), puffing on an inhaler, being blind because the whites of my eyes are swollen and itchy, coughing up a lung, and walking around with tissues hanging out of each nostril. By the way, did you know that if you sneeze hard enough, you fart without even realizing you had to?  At least I'm a loud sneezer. I'm just saying.

Don't you just envy Shellie?  She gets all of this.  PurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcoughcoughCOUGHrrrrrr!

Have I mentioned how much I love me some Yahoo hosting?

Everything looked fine on my blog this morning.  Then just a few minutes ago, I checked and there were three of the swing dance posts.  I deleted the new two...and that deleted all my comments on the first one and left an pre-edited version up.  So I had to delete the last one and repost.  *sigh*

So if you commented on the swing post, I did see it.  It just went bye bye.

Oh, by the way, Yahoo, my kitty says hi.

I never rant - really.  But today, things are just rubbing me the wrong way.  (If you want to rub me the right way, please fill out an application at the front desk.) 

Something that has been getting on my nerves lately : those damn bluetooth earpieces.  Men, if you wear one, you look quite gaybo. No, I don't care that you're a business man and you don't have time to answer a real phone, you still look idiotic with that Britney Spears microphone sticking out of the side of your head. Because I sleep in the same bed as another woman, I get to freely say YOU LOOK LIKE A FAG.

Something else that's pissing me off lately? Television. I try not to watch tv anymore because everything is just total crap. I hate the drama of everything; it's either someone being an asshole, someone is crying, or someone is getting hurt/killed.  The people in charge either want you to be pissed off, sad or scared about EVERYTHING.  Even the news has turned into "let's see how much drama we can cause".  It's just plain ol' stupid.  Pretty soon everyone will be so desensitized, they'll have to start having tv shows with titles like "LIVE : Execution of Furry Puppies" and "People Are Dying All Around You And You're Next" and "George Bush is President".   Oooh, the horror.

Ok, so maybe the PMS hits a little on the cranky side with me, too.  But if you mention it, I might stab you.  So it might be best if you just don't mention it. 

My dear, sweet hosting service,

When we were first introduced, I wasn't sure what to do.  I was a little shy and submissive because it was my first blind date with a host - I always stuck with safe (though a tad unreliable) Mr. Blogger.  But I was a new woman with a new domain and I was going to grow as a blogger and get a REAL host.  I heard you were nice and thought you were handsome enough, so I gave it a shot.

The first week was a little rough, sure, but I shyly assumed it was my ignorance because, honestly dear, you were my first.  I was too scared to admit I didn't know what I was doing with you.  You, afterall, had done it before.  So I just layed there and let you do your thing.

The more I learned about what this kind of relationship is supposed to be, the more I realized you were kinda a jerk.  I learned by reading detailed websites and from talking to professionals, and you know what?  You're not only a jerk - you're a PAIN IN MY ASS.

I tried to use protection yesterday - protection from those nasty little comment bugs, and what did you do?  You laughed at me and shut down the system entirely!  Now I'm without protection again and will probably get some sort of disease before it's all over with.  You selfish pig.  I knew I shouldn't have hooked up with you - you're no good for me.

And that's why I'm leaving you.  I would say "it's not you, it's me", but...seriously...it's ALL you.  I'm finding someone else to open my site to. Someone who loves me and who will PROTECT me without making me feel guilty about it.  Goodbye, Yahoo.  This was the worst month of my blogging life. I'm sure you understand.

Love, Chase

p.s. Please don't call me.  It'll only make things harder for us both.

Because this is one thing that just chaps the hell out of it...and not in the good way : Oklahoma's religious fruitiness.  Let me first say that religion as a whole is a wonderful thing - if you're not insane.  And, sorry, but a lot of things people do and say in the name of religion is just plain stupid.  Oklahoma is full of them lately - this is an example.

We have had a serial rapist we've been looking for since 2003.  They caught a guy recently who is allegedly linked to eleven cases so far.  The headline for the capture of this prick?  "Suspect's Arrest A Result of Answered Prayers".  Wha?  Really?  After three years, God decided that it was finally time to answer the prayers?  How quaint. 

This goes right along with our governor's recent declaration of an official state-wide Day of Prayer for rain.  Our houses were burning down and the air was filled with smoke and ash for months.  Then, when it rained 3 months later, it was because they prayed for it on The Day of Prayer.

What, are all these deities on vacation during actual prayer time?  Who do they think they are, President Bush?